


love lockdown

by forochel



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Accidental Domesticity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Museums, Romantic Comedy, a la Covid-19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: "Who knew," Wonpil mused as he turned over and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, "that this would happen?"-----Wonpil goes over to Younghyun's after work for pasta, gets stuck, and then they navigate their still fledgling relationship and growing feelings In These Uncertain Times.Yes, this is a lockdown romcom, because how else am I to cope.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil
Comments: 23
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CAVEAT LECTOR (A): This is a work of fiction based on fictional representations of real people. Turn back now if this troubles you.
> 
> CAVEAT LECTOR (B): This is my  
> \- specifically interpersonal covid anxiety therapy fic  
> \- 'better coping with WFH through writing' fic  
> \- 'love to make Highly Specific Corporatese jokes' fic  
> \- 'the aging millenial dream is just a really good deep tissue massage' fic  
> \- 'Extreme Handwaving: The Musical' fic

* * *

"I can drive you home," Younghyun offered. "Just let me know if you need to go into work and I'll come give you a lift."

The municipal lockdown alert had popped up on both their phones just after Wonpil had disentangled himself and said he ought to get home, and then the HR email (upper management had clearly been doing contingency planning for once) had followed fifteen minutes later.

Wonpil lived 1.5 hours and two line transfers away from the museum they both worked for. He hesitated — not wanting to risk it, but not wanting to inconvenience Younghyun either.

"Or ..." Younghyun glanced quickly at him and away, diffident in a way that Wonpil was learning meant he was hiding a deep upswelling of some feeling. "Or you could — I mean, I'm happy for you to stay here. If you want."

Wonpil stared.

"It's closer to work if you have to go in for research; you can walk, even," Younghyun rattled on, "and there's, uh, I can make space for you. And that way we'd have company. And my internet's better than yours."

"It is," Wonpil agreed faintly.

"And" — Younghyun went on, quite visibly grasping for straws — "and, um, I can cook?"

It was disarming, seeing slick Section Leader Kang this hesitant and tripping over his words. Quite thoroughly so.

Slowly, Wonpil said, smiling, "Well, good thing I came from work and have my laptop with me, I guess."

His meaning seemed to take several uncharacteristic seconds to sink into Younghyun's brain. Wonpil watched understanding dawn on that stupidly attractive face along with the smile that had been his downfall.

"All right then." Younghyun beamed back at him.

They then stared at each other for a long moment, newly awkward in these unprecedented circumstances.

"Okay! So! I'll just —" Younghyun broke the moment, gestured vaguely towards the bedroom. "Make. Um. Space?"

Wonpil laughed; all he had was his backpack and the clothes on his back. Younghyun's eyes snapped to his face at the sound of his laughter and he looked — oh. Wonpil still didn't know how to interpret that look.

"Come here, hyung," he said fondly, tugging at Younghyun's beltloops. "You've just bought us two more hours."

After putting those two extra hours to good use, Wonpil curled up comfortable and freshly showered in his borrowed pyjamas under his designated blanket. They had learnt after the _first_ time Wonpil had slept over that they were both terrible blanket hogs and any hope of this budding relationship blooming would depend on independent blanketing.

"Oh no," Younghyun said suddenly just as Wonpil was dropping off, "well — not oh no, but — this, us, it's — people will —"

"—notice." Wonpil daringly rolled further into Younghyun's space. "Do you ... hmm. I didn't know you want to hide?"

"No! No, I'm not, you're not," Younghyun stuttered, sitting up. "Wonpil-ah. It's not that I want to hide you."

Wonpil giggled and blew a raspberry against his belly. "I know. It's not like we're in the same line of report either. The entire museum is just made up of terrible gossips."

"Exactly." The deep relief in Younghyun's voice made Wonpil want to hug him, so he did.

**§**

Dear all,

Effective immediately, the National Museum of Korea will be closed to the public in compliance with municipal order. We will only reopen as advised by the health authorities.

Collections staff and Corporate Services are to work from home effective tomorrow. Respective department heads will work with their team members to make the arrangements for what you need from the office.

Staff within the Collections departments may come in only for primary research, subject to managerial approval. 24 hours' notice must be provided.

Please observe all social distancing measures.

Wishing you good health and safety in these unprecedented times —

On the behalf of  
__

**§**

The next morning dawned with Head Curator Kim announcing her plans to Pivot To Digital during the morning briefing. Starting with the exhibition that Wonpil had been preparing for in the past two months.

"She was on my interview panel," said Younghyun when Wonpil was complaining about this during lunch, which they took sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. "Kim Hyo-jin is a ... formidable woman."

"She was on mine too," said Wonpil, "and she just looked permanently unimpressed. She's just really intense and like ... visionary, I guess. Whatever that means."

"I think you're pretty visionary." Younghyun gave him an encouraging hand-squeeze. "I remember walking into that meeting for your folk music exhibition and being stunned."

Wonpil gave him a cheeky grin. "I thought that was because of my stunning good looks."

Laughing, Younghyun brought his hand up to press an avocado-y kiss to his knuckles. "That too."

The sweetness of the moment turned the conversation away from work, and so Wonpil had no idea how they went from avocado knuckles to a tense stand-off over the dishes in half an hour.

"I'll have to book in trips back to the museum soon," Wonpil murmured absently as he scraped his crumbs off into the bin, mind already half-back on his to-do list. "We've already selected most of the display artefacts, but _now_ there's coming up with multimedia things for the virtual exhibit... rewriting copy because _web friendliness_ , whatever that means ... and we'll have to figure out how to set up recording in the archives..."

He only realised he'd been rambling when he trailed off to be met with silence. Younghyun's brows were furrowed as he scrubbed needlessly at the spotless cutting board.

"Does it _have_ to be you?"

Wonpil blinked at him. "Well ... yes?"

Putting the plate in the dishrack, Younghyun turned to lean his hip against against the sink. "What about your teammates?"

He could _feel_ his eyebrows furrowing. "What about them? _I'm_ co-lead on this project, so _I_ should be the one going."

"Okay, but what if —"

"Hyung," said Wonpil slowly, "you're the one who suggested that I stay here because I can easily get to work if I needed to."

That drew Younghyun up short. "Well, I mean, yes, but —"

"But _what_?"

"But we don't know if there've been any cases in the museum yet, and maybe you should wait a bit —"

"I could just go back to my own apartment if you're worried about me bringing any viruses back here," Wonpil snapped and folded his arms together, obscurely stung.

Younghyun shook his head, looking frustrated. "No! That's not the point! Wonpil-ah —" he reached across the scant space separating them to hold Wonpil's accessible wrist. "I'm worried about _you_."

Something about Younghyun made him feel like high school Wonpil again: soft and trusting and untried. In a good way. Like around him Wonpil could relinquish the wary self-defences he'd had to forge by trial of fire when he'd first dipped his undergraduate toes into the museum industry.

 _Neoliberalism, in your GLAM career?_ Yubin-noona had snorted cynically after a young Wonpil had had his identity crisis at her over coffee on a day off. _It's more likely than you think_.

And now here he was, literal bedfellows with a marketeer.

"Okay," Wonpil said quietly, letting the tension out of his body. "I'll wait a bit."

The relief on Younghyun's face when he pulled Wonpil in for a hug made his heart clench, sharp and sweet.

The second crisis followed the next morning.

It hadn't occurred to either of them 'til Wonpil was standing shirtless and mildly panicked in front of the wardrobe, that the sum total of clothes that Wonpil had carelessly left at Younghyun's over the past few months of dating came up to two pairs of underwear, one (1) button-up shirt, and a pair of ripped jeans.

"Well, it's not as though anyone's going to be seeing anything but your top," said Younghyun.

"They might notice me wearing the same two shirts."

Wonpil ended up borrowing Younghyun's work shirts, explaining away the loose fit as an attempt at budget Yohji.

They worked on opposite ends of the main room. Younghyun had his special delivery sit-stand computer desk, bought with the sort of money that being parachuted in presumably allowed him to rent a small apartment in the same district as the museum, while Wonpil colonised half of the IKEA table shoved up against the wall between the kitchen door and the bedroom.

This arrangement allowed them to escape suspicion for about a week, until Wonpil took over Younghyun's work station for reasons of ergonomics and the developing knots in his neck.

Younghyun had offered whilst working them away after dinner that weekend, clever fingers digging into the soft, tender hollows under the base of his skull.

Groaning a grateful agreement, Wonpil hadn't thought anything of it then.

**§**

**Kim Tae-ri:** Wonpil-sshi ... that painting behind you during the meeting just now ...  
 **Kim Wonpil** : yes...?  
 **Kim Tae-ri:** I had a meeting with Marketing Kang last week and I AM PRETTY SURE I SW THIS VERY SAME PAINTING  
*saw  
 **Kim Wonpil:** Really? Guess we have similar taste in art!  
 **Kim Tae-ri** : we're CURATORS, KIM WONPIL. WE HAVE EYES

**§**

"Hyung," Wonpil said cautiously as he powered down his laptop. "I do have to go into the museum at some point, you know?"

Younghyun looked up from his computer, glasses slipping down his nose.

Wonpil had been charmed to learn that he wore contacts, the first time he'd stayed over and witnessed Younghyun squinting blearily into lazy Saturday morning sunshine streaming in through the blinds. He'd been further charmed when Younghyun stopped bothering with them a fortnight into lockdown.

"Eh?" He still looked like he was far away in the land of digital strategy, or whatever. Wonpil only vaguely got that he was trying to convince upper management that it was time to drag the museum's online presence into the current century, i.e. get on social media.

"The archives." Wonpil stretched his arms over his head and wincing as something in his shoulder clicked. "I have to retrieve some instruments for the recording. And then we have to trial recording in there."

"Recording?" Younghyun repeated blankly, and then shook his head. He rubbed the meat of his palms into his eyes, pushing his glasses up his forehead. "Oh. Recording. Right. Okay. Yes. Do you need a ride? When?"

A little stunned, Wonpil stared. "I don't — hyung, it's a _ten minute walk_."

"It's still crowded in this neighbourhood."

Younghyun gestured out the window, which looked down nine storeys to the back street his building was on. Wonpil got up and went over; he hadn't actually left the flat for more than fresh air and early morning runs to the convenience store, timed for the sweet spot when there weren't as many people about.

"Ah ..." Wonpil trailed off when he saw the extremely un-socially-distanced situation on the narrow pavement.

Giving him a dry look, Younghyun slipped an arm around him. "Yes. That's why I got the pull-up bar delivered."

Wonpil _had_ been mildly bemused as he'd watched Younghyun install the bar with much cursing and thumb bruising, on the weekend. He'd been less bemused and more appreciative, watching Younghyun actually put it to use.

"Is that why," Wonpil said teasingly, leaning into Younghyun's side. "I thought you just wanted to impress me."

"Multitasking, Wonpil-ah. It's the name of the game." Younghyun poked him. "So, can I give you a lift?"

**§**

**Kim Wonpil:** Did you manage to find that janggu?  
 **Jung Wheein:** Yes, it was misshelved but I tracked it down. Send in the request!  
 **Kim Wonpil:** I love you  
 **Jung Wheein:** Don't you have a boyfriend?  
 **Kim Wonpil:** Don't people these days believe in love between friends?  
 **Jung Wheein:** Aw, sunbaenim, are we friends?

**§**

Wonpil ended up wrangling Younghyun into giving both him and the session drummer a lift to the museum.

"Are you sure he hasn't been in contact with —"

"Oh, come on, hyung," Wonpil had sighed, exasperated. "Even during normal life, Dowoonie barely goes out unless it's for drum lessons or for work, which he _doesn't have right now_."

"Dowoonie?"

"My _dongsaeng_ " — Wonpil waved his phone at Younghyun — "from college. Now are you going to pick him up or let my dongsaeng risk his life on the subway or not?"

So Younghyun grumpily drove south of the river to pick up Dowoon, and was only pacified when Wonpil pointed out they could get coffee to go from that one specific cafe in the university district that Dowoon lived on the edge off.

Thusly plied with fancy coffee, he was markedly less grumpy when Dowoon climbed into the car, and then Dowoon worked his fuzzy charm on Younghyun as Wonpil had known he would. As did the revelation that he'd apparently had a test done and was in the clear.

"So you're Wonpilie-hyung's office scandal," Dowoon said cheerfully, once he'd warmed up to Younghyun.

Younghyun choked on the sip of coffee he'd just taken; it was a good thing he'd already put his cup back in the holder.

"Yah!" Wonpil reached back to try and poke him. "It's not a _scandal_ , you brat!"

"Not yet anyway. Because nobody knows, right?"

A conspicuous silence ensued.

Perspicaciously, Dowoon mused, "Wow, hyung, I have blackmail material at last?"

Wonpil caught the half-amused, half-alarmed sidelong look that Younghyun cast him. "No, you brat, don't forget who got you this gig."

"Wow," murmured Younghyun, smiling into his coffee at the stop light like he'd never been in a meeting with a Wonpil who was feeling goal-oriented before.

"Ah, all right," grumbled Dowoon. "Honestly, I was just joking."

But it seemed that Dowoon would have the last laugh in the end. He shuffled into the chilly, softly-lit archives underground on Wonpil's heels and so was in prime position to witness Wonpil get teased within an inch of his life by the archives staff _and_ Senior Curator Cho.

"Gossip travels fast, Wonpil-sunbaenim." Wheein, who had been hired as an archival assistant just three months before the pandemic had hit, took pity at last and explained. "By which I mean Yongsun-eonnie was looking out of her office window when you arrived and texted me."

"What was _she_ doing here?"

"Collecting files for her team," said Senior Curator Cho. "So she was very surprised, as you might imagine, to see her department-mate's car at the staff entrance."

Wonpil's ears, he was certain, were like red traffic lights. They felt so warm. He wished he hadn't taken off his toque, because it was cold down here and because it would cover his ears.

"Wow, hyung," muttered Dowoon, "your ears are so red."

Unthinkingly, Wonpil raised his hands to his ears.

Just as quickly, Wheein snapped, "Sunbaenim, don't touch your face!"

"Let's just ... go retrieve the objects I requested, please," said Wonpil in despair. "And Dowoon-sshi can check the recording set-up in the meantime."

"Ah, youth," remarked Senior Curator Cho with no little amusement. "I'll take Dowoon-sshi to the room we've set up in while you two do that, then."

**§**

**Lee Sungkyung:** did I see you get out of kang younghyun's car yesterday?  
 **Kim Wonpil:** I don't know? How can I know what you saw, noona?

——

**Lee Sungkyung:** @everyone Wonpilie is being VERY EVASIVE.  
 **Kim Min-Ah:** I knew it, the way they were giving each other those eyes on that Minyo project when Kang first joined. So obvious.  
 **Lee Sungkyung:** I thought it was cute.  
 **Kim Min-Ah:** I didn't say it wasn't cute! I just wonder how long this has been going on. Kim Taeri said she's pretty sure they're living together, from her video calls with them both.  
 **Lee Sungkyung:** Yongsun totally recognised the car Wonpilie gt out of too.  
 **Kang Hanna** : Everyone, please don't gossip in the official team channel.  
 **Kim Min-Ah** : Beloved Assistant Manager-nim, I know for a fact that you've already placed your bet.

**§**

It could really only have been a matter of time.

If Wonpil could've chosen, though, he'd have picked almost any other way for their relationship — their _situation_ to be revealed.

Younghyun had taken a half day on an otherwise unnotable Tuesday morning to go marketing (the food one, not the capitalism one) right after it opened, for the freshest fish available. He'd tried his best to slip out of bed without waking Wonpil and only mostly succeeded; Wonpil had vague memories of mumbling something and then rolling into the warm depression left behind.

He'd come humming through the door, rustling bags full of the spoils of his haggling victories in hand, whilst Wonpil was mired in the weekly exhibition team check-in. Fully considerate of the headset Wonpil had on, he'd hummed softer whilst putting away the groceries, and not hummed at all when he crept past into the bedroom.

That time, Wonpil'd remembered to turn his video off.

Then Younghyun decided to to start singing operatic nonsense in the shower, so that Wonpil had to mute himself and lean out of sigh to holler at him to shut up. He tuned back in to Head Curator Kim mid-sentence and calling on him.

"— Wonpil-sshi, can you speak to that?"

"Sorry." Wonpil unmuted himself and hoped he wasn't blushing. "Um. Could you please repeat yourself?"

He was just concluding his progress update on the digital pivot when Younghyun — who sometimes had the memory of a goldfish — sauntered obliviously, myopically, hair still dripping into the towel slung about his neck, out of the bedroom into the kitchen. He was humming less operatically to himself. He was also parading past the webcam in all his shirtless glory.

The fucking _scratches_ down Younghyun's flank hadn't faded yet.

Wonpil watched him do this in self view, blank horror blanketing his mind like a snowdrift.

There was a very, very long pause.

Someone started clapping.

Wonpil gave into the impulse to hide his face in his hands.

"DON'T TOUCH YOUR FACE!" shouted several people at once.

**§**

**Im Nayeon:** OH MY GOD JUNIOR CURATOR KIM & MARKETING KANG ARE ACTUALLY SHACKING IT UP?  
 **Yoo Jeongyeon:** I knew it was them in Euljiro I spotted on Christmas!!!  
 **Bang Chan:** I'm pretty sure they were just OT-ing on the pre-Joseon performing arts exhibition and then Wonpil-sunbaenim got stuck :(  
 **Im Nayeon:** I'm pretty sure they're sleeping together, Christopher.  
 **BAMBAM:** I was in that meeting. I saw the hickeys.

**§**

"How," demanded Jinyoung, "did you go from zero to cohabitation so fast?"

Whining in protest, Wonpil fell dramatically onto the sofa. His phone bounced a little with the impact. "It wasn't _zero_ , we'd been dating for —"

"Like, what, four months?"

"That is still a non-zero number."

"When did you become this much of a pedant, Wonpilie? Is it that man's influence?"

Wonpil thought about how Younghyun was ridiculously easy-going and indulgent when you got to know him past the intimidating sharp façade, and shook his head. Then elaborated: "No. It's because of _you_."

Jinyoung's laugh crackled over the line. "Okay, but honestly, how do you get yourself into these things? And when can you come visit? You know I've had to be very careful."

"I ..." To be honest, everything had happened so fast that Wonpil still wasn't sure himself how he'd ended up living with Younghyun. "I mean, it's just ... hyung said he would make pasta for me, and he let me try some of his packed lunch once, so of course I said yes."

"Of course," said Jinyoung drily.

"Who knew," Wonpil mused as he turned over and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, "that this would happen?"

Somewhere in Jinyoung's background, he heard Jaebeom ask, "Was it good pasta at least?"

"That is NOT THE POINT," Jinyoung replied stridently.

In the bathroom, the shower shut off.

"It was," Wonpil said a little helplessly. "He's taught me how to make it."

And hadn't _that_ been an adventure. Wonpil was sure that Younghyun had done it merely to try and reenact some kdrama. Then he'd learnt that Wonpil didn't understand how the claw technique worked and couldn't be trusted with a salt shaker.

"Oh my god," Jinyoung sighed, but it was cut with amusement. "Wonpilie, I despair."

"Anyway —" Wonpil glanced up at Younghyun as he emerged from the bedroom, bespectacled and warm and damp "— I'll ask hyung if he's okay with giving me a ride to your place."

And, Wonpil thought privately, if he was going to have a little freakout again about Wonpil possibly catching anything from an elementary school teacher who was _professionally_ required to be more paranoid than Younghyun.

Unfortunately, Younghyun meeting Jinyoung meant that he gained another point in his arsenal when restrictions lifted after about a month of their adventures in cohabitation and giving the museum grapevine the run-around.

"I just miss jamming out," Wonpil pouted at him, when the jazz bar where he occasionally took a turn as session keyboardist reopened. "Dowoonie'll be playing too. Come and watch!"

Younghyun was very apparently biting his tongue, even though Wonpil had said he would of course be wearing a mask — everyone would — and that the bar was limiting attendees and all the sensible things.

"Or — you don't have to," he said softly.

Sighing, Younghyun rubbed a hand over his face. "It's not that I — don't trust the mayor or our health authorities, it's just ..."

Wonpil almost opened his mouth to say that he could just move home, but by now he knew that wasn't the point. Younghyun was already shaking his head, anyway, though he looked unhappy.

He was quietly unhappy in the run up to the jam session, and unhappy as he dropped Wonpil off, and unhappy as he picked him up after.

"Wow," Dowoon told him as he kept Wonpil company on the pavement whilst waiting for Younghyun. "Hyung, your office scandal's a keeper."

To be honest, the way Younghyun was unhappy but kept trying to hide it had made the last few days at his apartment tense and strange. It had definitely affected Wonpil's mood even whilst jamming, this sense of things not being quite right marring the usual delight he could find in making music. The satisfied contentment he usually came away with was just out of reach.

He only sighed in response.

"Or ... not?" Dowoon sounded confused. "What...?"

It was so _unreasonable_ of Wonpil, though; he knew it would sound silly if he said it out loud.

"Nothing." Wonpil shook his head and pat Dowoon's arm. "Really, it's just this weird time."

"It is a very weird time," Dowoon agreed, and then glanced up. "Oh, isn't that hyung's car?"

**§**

Dear all,

Out of an abundance of caution, all museum staff except those deemed essential will work remotely until further notice. We have taken into consideration the developing situation, such as the recent clusters and the new municipal order on entertainment venues, as well as listened to all of your concerns.

Please refer to the attached memo and guidelines for further details.

Thank you all for your co-operation and hard work in pivoting to a digital working environment in this difficult time. Please continue to observe all social distancing recommendations and stay healthy.

On the behalf of,  
__

**§**

"I know you want to say I told you so," Wonpil said at last, after they'd sat in an uneasy silence for a few streets as Younghyun navigated away from the nearest drive-in test site.

Not perhaps his finest moment, but he'd challenge anyone to be gracious after getting what felt like one's brain scraped at with a cotton bud. Younghyun had submitted to it too, of course, having been in close contact with Wonpil. The feeling of being _sorry_ clashed with the strange, skittering panic whenever he was confronted with the — with how worried Younghyun always was, about him.

"I — _what_?" Younghyun's hands tightened around the steering wheel and he glanced at Wonpil.

Wonpil sighed and leaned his head against the window. "Just say ... whatever it is. I know you didn't like that I went to —"

"Of course I didn't!" Younghyun interrupted, voice raised. More evenly, he repeated himself. "Of course I didn't. But it's ... what's done is done."

Unsure of why he was pressing, Wonpil replied, "You didn't fight me very hard on it."

The traffic light ahead of them turned to red, and Younghyun slowed the car to a stop before turning to face Wonpil. "No. Would you rather I have ... " He shook his head and huffed out a pale imitation of a laugh. "What, locked you up?"

"No." Wonpil met Younghyun's eyes for a second, before he had to look away. "No, I wouldn't have."

"No. It's your life, and I —" Younghyun turned his attention back to the road, so that he wasn't looking at Wonpil when he said, "I don't think we'd be here right now, like this, would we. If I'd made you ... not go. Together, I mean."

"I —" Wonpil stopped. He wouldn't have been happy, but he wouldn't have gone _that_ far. He sighed. "I don't think that would have happened."

Younghyun was silent for a while. Then he said, as he turned into one of the back streets that would take them home, "I hope so. I'm glad you think so."

Relief had the tension running out of his limbs; it left only contrition behind.

"But hyung, now you've had to take this test too." Wonpil glanced at him sidelong under his lashes.

Younghyun shrugged. "Who knows? I'd probably have to anyway, right? Not like I'd have stopped seeing you if you'd gone back to your place. Or driving you places."

By this point, Wonpil had mostly managed to stop himself from squirming in place or hiding his face in his hands when Younghyun said these ridiculously, unthinkingly romantic things.

"So ... are you still angry with me, hyung?"

" _Angry_?" Younghyun glanced over at him again, and then took a hand off the wheel to pat Wonpil on the thigh. "I ..." The way he trailed off made the squirmy pleased thing in Wonpil freeze. "I'm not angry, I think. No."

Wonpil stared at the side of his face. He was plainly not _happy_ still, though, and maybe ... maybe ...

The thought came unbidden.

Perhaps Jinyoung did have a point about how weird this all was. It had been so easy to fall in step with Younghyun the past few months; everything had unfolded so pleasantly and organically from those little flirtations over last year's exhibition. Perhaps some breathing space to think about things would be good.

"Maybe ...." Wonpil hesitated. "I _should_ go home?"

Younghyun gave him a look not unlike a kicked puppy would.

He hastened to add, "Not — it's _just_ to go home, hyung, not — not — not that."

"I know, but ..." Younghyun trailed off as he manouevred around an awkwardly parked delivery scooter to turn into the street that led to his building's underground parking.

"It's just," Wonpil invented desperately, "since they extended the work from home thing, I can't just take up space in your flat _until further notice_."

Seeing Younghyun opening his mouth, most probably to say that he could do exactly just that, Wonpil hurried on, "And my plants are probably dying? I won't need to go into work for a while now. And I miss my clothes! And I think I left my keyboard on. My neighbour probably thinks I'm dead."

He was only realising now as he listed things off desperately, that he did miss his own flat quite a bit. But this was all coming out wrong, like he wanted to leave Younghyun when — when he didn't at all. It was just so hard to think clearly around him.

"Okay," Younghyun said, once he'd carefully backed into his parking lot. "Of course. That all makes sense. I — so, this weekend?"

But once Wonpil got back home, and had dusted and vacuumed everything, and taken in the groceries his kind neighbour who lived across the corridor from him had helped him buy, and finished busying himself with chores, it became all too apparent.

It, being the absence of another person in the same space — the absence of humming in the background, or occasional exclamations as Younghyun talked to himself, or the way it was quite literally colder without the walking space heater that was Kang Younghyun nearby.

Funny, Wonpil thought to himself as he discovered that his little row of succulents on the windowsill had quite understandably given up the ghost, how he'd got so quickly used to having company around. Having _Younghyun_ around.

**§**

**Kim Min-ah:** Did Kim Wonpil move back to his place? I saw him in the archives the other day wearing his own shirt.  
 **Kim Min-ah:** You know, the one with the daisy embroidered on the pocket.  
 **Lee Sungkyung:** hOW have you noticed this?  
 **Kim Min-ah:** I have an eye for detail.  
 **Lee Sungkyung:** Oh no they BROKE UP?  
 **Park Jaehyung:** Maybe they weren't together in the first place  
 **Park Sungjin:** maybe this is none of our business  
 **Park Jaehyung:** How are you in this channel, Sungjin?  
 **Park Sungjin:** THIS IS MY DEPARTMENT'S CHANNEL. WHAT ARE *YOU* DOING HERE

**§**

After a good week of trying, Wonpil concluded that his succulents were conclusively beyond resurrection.

It had been easy to redirect his attentions to them rather than the loneliness chewing at his heels. More troubling than that, however: the unsettling sense of having expanded beyond the once-comfortable bounds of his little studio apartment, nestled into a peaceful residential neighbourhood with a view of the mountains to the northeast, so that it no longer quite fit. His holt, now a familiar stranger.

How strange, that just a month and change of living with somebody else could do this to him. It wasn't as though Younghyun's one-bedroom apartment was the lap of luxury either.

They'd exchanged texts of course, but he suspected Younghyun was feeling tender from ... not-quite rejection, and also trying his best to be careful and sensitive and give Wonpil space. Wonpil felt compelled to be careful in turn and he was quite thoroughly sick of all this walking on eggshells.

It felt unnatural, in comparison to the blindingly obvious looks that Younghyun had given him over conference tables; the way he'd sought Wonpil out in the staff canteen to _discuss publicity strategy_ ; his forthright confession over overpriced coffee at the quasi-Viennese place a few blocks away from the museum. That had been so refreshing, not to be the one doing the chasing for once. To be told _I like you, can I take you to dinner_ , and then smiled at like something miraculous when he'd blushed into his mug and nodded.

"This is stupid," he told the corpses of his succulents, and took a photo of them.

Then he sent it to Younghyun, captioned with as many crying emoji as he could type before his fingers got tired.

 _Aigoo_ , he got in response, and shortly after a photograph of the flourishing aloe vera plant that had been applied to his burn on the night of learning how to pasta. _This is from my halmeoni_. _Did I ever mention that?_

The conversational tone, as though Younghyun were perfectly willing to pick up as though nothing at all had happened — or, or, exactly as though Younghyun were perfectly happy to pick up wherever and however Wonpil desired, sliced right through him. The way one of Younghyun's fancy Japanese knives probably would.

Without conscious thought, Wonpil's phone was in his hand and already dialling for Younghyun. He stared at the outgoing call — would it — it would be even weirder to just hang up now, wouldn't it? Or perhaps not? Before Wonpil could make a decision, Younghyun picked up. Wonpil hastily clapped his phone to his ear.

"Wonpilie?" Younghyun sounded surprised and pleased and hopeful. An admixture of things that made Wonpil's heart turn slowly over.

"No," Wonpil said, "you didn't. Was it when you started teaching yourself how to cook?"

After that they called each other more often. It was strange. They hadn't talked on the phone this much when they'd started dating — though of course, back then it had been easier to run into each other at work, or to see each other after. Younghyun started dropping by, despite Wonpil's building being so out of his way as to be laughable, just to bring him food or — once — a new cactus that he announced the flower shop ajumma had promised was indestructible.

"Your boyfriend is very sweet," his neighbour — not the groceries one, but a language teacher who could be heard enunciating German very loudly over video call sometimes — said to him. "To drive out here so often to see you."

"Well..." Wonpil shuffled awkwardly in his doorway; he'd stepped out to retrieve his post and been caught on his way back in. Ulrike had apparently been bored enough to make some sort of German cake, and was now trying to give it all away. Younghyun would like it, Wonpil thought.

"Though," Ulrike mused, "what else is he to do, right?"

"Right," Wonpil agreed weakly. "Um. I'll save some cake for him, thank you!"

**§**

**Park Sungjin** : Wonpil-ah  
 **Kim Wonpil** : Hyung? What is it? Do you have another focus group you want me to join?  
 **Kim Wonpil** : I don't mind helping you but there's only so much I can say about org development  
 **Park Sungjin** : No! Not everything is about business  
 **Park Sungjin** : Actually wait no I do have to check in on your ergonomics  
 **Kim Wonpil** : I knew it.  
 **Kim Wonpil** : And they're awful, don't ask. I'm working at my coffee table.  
 **Park Sungjin:** YOUR coffee table?  
 **Kim Wonpil** : I'm going to become the hunchback like that Disney movie  
 **Park Sungjin** : Do stretches. Now what do you mean YOUR coffee table??  
 **Kim Wonpil** : Not you too, hyung???

**§**

A month passed. _Performing Arts of the Past: from Koguryo to Silla_ opened. It opened entirely virtually.

It felt empty to only have the microsite to click around in, even though the consultants they'd hired at short notice (Head Curator Kim had been delighted to be able to wave around the excuse of the pandemic to forshorten the RFQ process) had done a bang-up job of customising the UI and — and all sorts of other technical things that had frankly gone over Wonpil's head .

Wonpil missed the satisfaction of having a tangible result, of guiding patrons through interacting with the exhibits, of standing in the exhibition after closing hours and just soaking it all in. He even missed the interminable members-only opening receptions with all the _circulating_ and small talk and nursing a flute of champagne long after it'd gone flat so he wouldn't say absolutely the wrong thing to the wrong person.

He told Younghyun all this over the phone — lying sideways in bed with video turned on, though this meant he mostly saw only half of Younghyun's face and vice versa. It was at times like this that Wonpil wondered _when_ he'd apparently acquired a penchant for self-punishment, especially now that Wonpil knew viscerally what it was to see only half of Younghyun's face from up close and personal.

"I like those," Younghyun was saying, his visible eye crinkling with amusement. "It's always interesting to meet the different kinds of people who want to be members. I remember talking to these education students at the last reception I went to about ... what was it ..."

"The value of the arts in society?" Wonpil guessed, shaking himself back into the present.

"Exactly that." Younghyun's voice was rich with — with something Wonpil didn't dare put a name to quite yet. "So smart, Wonpilie."

"It's a bugbear amongst us arts graduates," said Wonpil drily, but he could feel himself smiling back. "If they _were_ arts students."

"Well, either way. There you go, it's not all chaebol scions and lawyers."

"No, those are at the _super_ exclusive receptions that don't get advertised to the public. And the _super_ exclusive after hours personal tours."

"I remember stumbling in on one of those." Younghyun laughed and shook his head. "The look that ajusshi gave me even when he saw my staff tag. Did he think I wanted to steal an antique manuscript in notation I can't even read?"

"Who knows _what_ he thought."

"You know," Younghyun murmured, "you're very good at your job."

Inexplicably, Wonpil found himself flushing. He put his phone down so he could press his cool fingers to his cheeks. " _Hyung_."

"I mean it. I know _now_ , of course, but I couldn't tell at all that you hated it, at opening night for the _Minyo_ show."

"Hyung, you literally found me hiding behind a potted plant."

Younghyun laughed again, bright and a little too loud for the hour. "You were so cute, I didn't think of it any further than that."

"Ah, _hyung_ ," groaned Wonpil, and buried his face into his pillow.

"That was also the night," Younghyun said thoughtfully, "when I thought I might have a chance."

Curiosity piqued, Wonpil unburied himself. "What do you mean? Is that why you offered to buy me belated _good job_ coffee the week after?"

Shrugging with the fluid confidence that Wonpil had admired from the day one, Younghyun gave him a half-smile. "Yes. You didn't have a plus one; all staff get one ... So, I hoped."

"I — oh." Wonpil stared. All that self-assurance, he'd slowly been learning, was half Younghyun faking it 'til he made it; yet it still stunned him every time Younghyun showed his hand. Put his vulnerability squarely at Wonpil's mercy.

Younghyun shook his head. "So... If none of this was happening and you _did_ have a proper opening night and a plus one — would you have brought me?"

"To ... so everyone would know?" Wonpil tilted his head. "But you could be there in your own right?"

"True. It's just, Jae said —" Younghyun paused. "There's um. _Really_ a lot of...speculation."

Wonpil wondered if he should enlighten Younghyun as to the numerous probing attempts he'd already fielded from the HR department, not to mention the archivists and his own teammates. "How would Jae know? Isn't he still stuck in California?"

"Well, he's basically nocturnal anyway."

"I suppose it doesn't help that everyone is basically _stuck at home_ now."

"Mmm." Younghyun sounded careful — like he'd turned the words over and over in his head until they were smoothed like a marble, the way he always delivered his pitches and fielded questions at work meetings — when he changed topics. "You know, I made too much food tonight."

"Too much food?" Wonpil asked teasingly. "For _you_?"

" _Hey_."

Abruptly, their Christmas date came to mind — the fancy bar-bistro place Younghyun had introduced him to for dinner, and then the cafe _he'd_ taken Younghyun to, after. Remembered how unexpectedly charmed he'd been by how much Younghyun loved food and wasn't afraid to show it.

"Did you eat it all?"

"No, it really was too much. An unsensible amount." Younghyun shifted, and his sheets rustled with him. "And it — do you want some? You'll like it, it's pasta. _Taglietelle a la bolognese_ , the proper way. I can bring the leftovers tomorrow night."

Wonpil opened his mouth, despite his thoughts having abruptly deserted him. Then he closed it. Younghyun was watching him carefully, gaze still and focussed and so, so patient. There, over his shoulder, in the corner, was a glimpse of familiar yellow. _Wonpil's_ blanket, apparently still folded up on the bed. Something shivered, deep within him.

"Yeah, of course," Wonpil murmured, sinking his head down onto his folded arms. "Come over, hyung. Come over whenever you want."

**§**

**Park Jaehyung hyung**

So, updates on your situation:  
I heard that Director Jung placed a bet.

Why is there even a BET?  
WHAT are people BETTING ON???

**Park Jaehyung hyung**

Whether you're actually dating or not  
And when you'll make it official  
Because we're all under lockdown and bored out of our minds  
Also you and Wonpilie are the most exciting thing  
to have happened in the last three years

Didn't someone get caught embezzling  
museum funds in 2017?  
Before I joined  
Like, that was in the news

**Park Jaehyung hyung**

Ok, the last inconsequentially exciting thing

Glad my personal happinesss is inconsequential to you  
Hyung ㅠ___ㅠ

**Park Jaehyung hyung**

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN

**§**

They settled into this old-new normal eventually.

How odd, to feel like they were going backwards.

"Should I help pay for your petrol?" Wonpil asked once, when Younghyun was still stuck in his t-shirt; they'd gone for a hike in the mountains visible from Wonpil's kitchen window, and Wonpil had offered Younghyun the use of his shower. "You've probably been driving a lot more these days, right?"

Even muffled through cotton, Younghyun's bewilderment was clear. "What?"

Wonpil went over to help tug the t-shirt over Younghyun's head. "I said, do you want me to chip in for petrol?"

"I know what you said; I just don't understand why."

"It only seems fair" — Wonpil dropped the sweat-damp t-shirt now in his hands over the side of his laundry basket to dry — "since it's mostly because of _me_."

"It's because of me too, though. Isn't it?" Younghyun paused in the middle of shucking his jeans to point out. " _I_ want to come and see you."

In the bathroom mirror behind Younghyun, Wonpil watched a blush steal inexorably over his own face. " _Hyung_."

" _Wonpilie_." Younghyun's smile was fond and amused as he bent the scant few inches between them to kiss him. "Let it go. I'm happy to."

The conversation understandably derailed from there, but the inequity of their situation was like a pebble in Wonpil's shoe. Or, well, his house slippers, since there was little reason to leave the house these days. It was hardly _his_ fault he lived so far out and didn't have a car, but something didn't feel quite right either, about Younghyun having to always be the one coming to him. Even if meant doubling back to whichever district they were actually eating out in.

"He does realise," said Jinyoung when Wonpil personally delivered some of Ulrike's stress baking to him, "that you are totally capable of _and also_ totally _have_ taken public transport? It's not the biohazard zone he seems to think it is."

"No, it's not that anymore ... mostly." Wonpil chewed ruminatively on a deeply unseasonal gingerbread cookie. "It's just ... I don't know, it's so weird, like. I feel bad about it —"

"What do you feel bad about?"

"It just doesn't seem fair!"

Jinyoung canted his head like a curious bird. "Why not? Wouldn't it be more unfair for you to have to make that stupidly long trip to see _him_ when his drive is a third of that time?"

"Well!" Wonpil struggled. "I don't know."

"And it's not like he minds."

"No he doesn't, but it's just — I don't know. Obviously I don't want hyung to _stop_ coming over, and it's nice just staying in together ..."

Jinyoung was giving him the patient look that meant he knew what was going on but was going to just let Wonpil figure it out for himself.

In the meantime, _From Koguryo to Silla_ 's digital pivot seemed to generate more work than any physical exhibition (even the blockbuster _Hallyu_ one which had given the Legal department a year-long conniption in 2018) ever had before. There were the additional (ticketed) curatorial lectures, virtual (paid) guided tours, essays (free) about the exhibition's themes — Head Curator Kim had been inspired by the Heilbrunn timeline — and more.

"It's so popular," Wonpil sighed while Younghyun attempted to work out the knots in his back. "And Corporate is annoyed that they aren't reaping the usual ticket and souvenir sales."

"Hmm." Younghyun dug a knuckle into a tender spot. Over Wonpil's pained whimpers, he said, "I guess they're just extending the exhibition?"

"Indefinitely," sighed Wonpil, and sagged into his mattress when Younghyun switched to smoothing the hot palms of his hands down either side of his spine. Incredible how the heat of him transmitted through the thick cotton of Wonpil's pyjamas. "It's all online, anyway. Ah, that feels good, hyung."

"Yeah?" Younghyun kneaded at the small of his back a few more times. Wonpil felt like he might melt. "Like this?"

"Mmmf. Anyway, so that's why — _ah!_ No, no don't stop — why I need to stay over at yours for a few days soon..." Wonpil lost his train of thought, words smearing together; it was as though a thick gauzy veil was draping over his brain, like his eyelids were growing leaden even though they were already shut. "s'kay?"

Younghyun's hands on his skin paused a little, before they continued in their comforting circles. "Of course, Pilie. You're always welcome."

Turning over with some effort, Wonpil reached sleepily out with heavy arms. Grasped cotton. Younghyun's sweatpants. "Mm. Stay here tonight, hyung."

"Tonight? It's a work night."

Wonpil slit his eyes open and pouted.

"I don't have a toothbrush here —"

"B'hind the mirror," Wonpil mumbled, trying to gesture in the vague direction of the bathroom. " _Hyung_."

The temperatures these few days had dipped a little, and he missed having a personal human-sized hot water bottle. He heard a soft helpless laugh and was satisfied. Fingers tangled in his hair — Younghyun was charmingly obsessed with his curls — and Wonpil wriggled onto his side, yawning.

"I'll be quick, then," Younghyun murmured, suddenly a lot closer, breath warm and smelling a little of the beer they'd shared earlier. "Go to sleep."

**§**

**Re: Scheduling In-Office Time**

Kim Hyojin  
To Kim Wonpil; Facilities  
Wed 05/20/2020 14:21

Approved. Take the full 2 weeks, as discussed.

@Jimin-sshi — please note the archives will be at max capacity. Signed formed attached.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

> On Wed, May 20, 2020 at 9:34 AM Kim Wonpil wrote:
> 
> Head Curator-nim:
> 
> I've attached my request form. I do have some flexibility on timing, but a continuous span of days sometime in the next 2 weeks would be best.
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> KIM Wonpil  
> Junior Curator, Music  
> Exhibitions Department

**§**

There were no coffee stained mugs anywhere.

It had been five days, and Wonpil was getting increasingly weirded out.

He was no paragon of tidiness himself (that would be Sungjin-hyung, with whom Wonpil had shared a flat for one extremely nervewracking and well-organised year in undergrad), and so could not understand it.

In the month-and-change that he'd stayed with Younghyun, laundry had been by tacit agreement something they'd dump in together (not least because most of what Wonpil wore then was actually Younghyun's) — which had suited Wonpil fine. He hadn't minded overmuch Younghyun's absent-minded tendency to forget the laundry in the washing machine and leave the wet clothes for hour(s) after they were done before remembering to hang them up. Wonpil never remembered to fold the dried laundry away, after all.

But now — it had been _five days_ — Younghyun had laundered his sheets, taken his winter blankets up to the rooftop to thump silly, hung his sheets up when he came back down all red and sweaty from the effort of sunning his blankets, and then folded them away. Every single time Wonpil had tried to help, he'd been gently but firmly directed to sit down and relax, like he was attending some sort of weekend spa retreat.

Wonpil had come home from the museum on Tuesday and been confronted with a preternaturally neat hyeongwan. Where previously he'd been perfectly comfortable with kicking his shoes off into a contained pile next to Younghyun's own contained pile(s), now Wonpil felt compelled to line his sneakers up neatly in a row.

And now he'd wandered into the kitchen to wash up his lunchbox and been confronted with an absolutely empty sink, like Kang "no such thing as too many mugs" Younghyun had been replaced by a pod person.

Under such pressure, Wonpil found himself hyper-aware of where he'd left things out and conscientiously putting things back where he'd taken them — like all of his parents' nagging when he'd been a kid was finally coming to bear. He made sure to hang his towel up after drying his hair. He set a reminder on his phone on Saturday afternoon, to check the drying laundry and put it away. He _made the bed_ after shuffling out of it after Younghyun _every morning_.

It was a little like when Wonpil had gone back to his own flat and they'd been excessively considerate of each other's feelings, except that Wonpil had no idea what was going on this time round; he only knew that Younghyun was being so weirdly perfect he felt compelled to be the perfect guest his own mother would weep to see.

Things all came to a head on a rainy Wednesday night. Wonpil had been caught umbrella-less on his walk back, and been soaked in the sudden downpour. He called out his greeting absently as he shivered his way through the front door, hurriedly slopping himself out of his sodden clothes. At least his backpack was waterproof.

"Yah." Younghyun leaned into the _hyeongwan_ , sounding concerned. "Just leave those on the tile, I'll take care of them."

Wonpil barely looked up as he tried to unbutton his shirt, swelling cotton frustrating his attempts to slide the buttons free. "It's going to make a puddle."

"It's fine." Hands appeared in his line of vision, batting his own away as Younghyun somehow undid the top two buttons on his shirt and started lifting it up — oh, _over_ Wonpil's head. Clever. He raised his arms obediently, and finished struggling the shirt off whilst Younghyun worked the button of Wonpil's fly loose of the truly stubborn denim. Wonpil went abruptly warm all over, but Younghyun only smiled at him once he succeeded and squeezed his bare hip. "There. Go shower, Pilie."

Younghyun was in an apron over his standard work-from-home uniform of collared shirt and casual shorts. That made about two more layers he was in than Wonpil, who was now just realising that the windows must be cracked open.

There was a breeze and the cool rainy night air was distinctly unpleasant on his already clammy skin. Wonpil sneezed.

"Okay, yes," he acquiesced, wiggled his way free of his jeans, and made a beeline for the bathroom, wincing as he left rain-tacky footprints on the floorboards behind him.

He let his mind go blissfully blank under the hot beating of water against his skin, the drum of it on his skull and echoing pitter-patter on the shower tiles.

Significantly cheered by the shower and being in comfortable, dry, soft old clothes, Wonpil hummed as he ambled out into the dimly lit living area with his towel around his neck to catch stray drops of water from his hair, which was still damp and undoubtedly poofing out in a ridiculous mop. The goddamn humidity. It was a relief, Younghyun's incomprehensible fondness for the unruly wildness of his natural curls.

The window was still cracked; the curtains were billowing gently against the cool breeze raising the tiny hairs on Wonpil's arms.

"Ah, hyung, it's _cold_ ," Wonpil complained, turning away from where enticing smells were wafting out of the kitchen to go steal Younghyun's cardigan off the sofa. "And why is it so da...ark?"

The question died in his mouth as he took in what lay before him.

The coffee table had been covered with an actual, honest-to-god _tablecloth_. There were _candles_ and _tealights_ set out in a line on the table, together with a giant bowl of pasta (the very same that had enticed Wonpil over and then trapped him for a month), an open bottle of wine, and —

"Garlic bread?" Wonpil asked blankly, looking at the golden-brown slices of bread nestled in a bowl. "But I like it so much."

"I know." Younghyun came up behind him — for a split-second, Wonpil was struck with the irrational fear that this was some sort of last dinner before he was broken up with — and pressed close, sliding his arms around Wonpil's middle. "That's why."

Still struggling to process everything, Wonpil said, "That's why what?"

After a pause, Younghyun said in that high voice that signified being caught off-guard, "Um, that's why ... special dinner."

Wonpil twisted around to look Younghyun full in the face. "Special — but it's not my birthday?"

He was treated to the sight of blank panic blooming on Younghyun's face at close range.

"It was last month, hyung. We've already celebrated it, remember?" Wonpil said fondly. "Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking," Younghyun said in distinctly panicked tones. "I just — uh."

Taking pity, Wonpil pat Younghyun on the cheek. Whatever it was that was winding Younghyun up this much for no perceptible reason, Wonpil would find out eventually.

"Okay, hyung, well ... thanks for making nice food so randomly." Wonpil looked over his shoulder again at the tealights, the _tablecloth_ , and the _wine_ on a _worknight_ , then down at his football jersey and shorts. "Should I ... get changed?"

"No!" Younghyun shook his head, eyes wide. Wonpil was not sure there was any thinking actually going on behind there. He was about to laugh teasingly and draw Younghyun over to the table — maybe he was just too hungry and had ceased to function — when Younghyun said far too quickly for it to have been considered at all, "No, don't, you don't need to — you're perfect the way you are!"

For the second — no, third — time since stepping in through the front door, Wonpil's mind went blank. He stared at Younghyun. Younghyun stared back. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but that looked like a flush actually rising to Younghyun's cheeks.

"Um," said Younghyun. "I mean..."

Wonpil's instinctive mischief took over. "You mean I'm _not_ perfect?"

"I — no, I just —"

"I know I'm not." Wonpil felt his mouth twitch. "But lying is bad, hyung."

"I'm not lying!" Younghyun cried. "You know — I like, I like you like this so much, Wonpilie."

Wonpil should never have even thought gleefully about Younghyun blushing, because he went so hot all over he thought he might dissolve. "Yah, hyung, why are you ... _stop it_."

Younghyun's arms around him tightened. "I'm just saying."

Sighing, Wonpil ducked his head to the side, and caught sight of — "Oh, the food. It's going to get cold, hyung. Come on, let's go eat."

Because Kang Younghyun was a clingy, affectionate limpet at home, he shuffled both of them wholesale over to the table and only let go when it became clear there was no way to snuggle up on the same side of the table without someone elbowing a candle over or knocking a tealight onto the floor.

"This _is_ very nice, though, hyung," Wonpil said a while later, contemplating the deep burgundy of his wine as he held his glass up to the candle light. He was pleasantly sated, not too full, and a little light-headed from the rich velvety wine. "Thank you, really."

"Mmm." Younghyun abandoned his plate (reinforcing the pod person theory), wiped his mouth, and edged around the table to press up close. "I'm glad you like it."

Too relaxed to worry about the potential fire hazard, Wonpil tipped his heavy head onto Younghyun's shoulder. "'s nice when it's rainy, too."

"The weather did work out nicely, even though you got wet."

Wonpil hummed back and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the warm comfort of Younghyun's shoulder, the way he'd snuck an arm through the gap between Wonpil's back and the sofa to hold him.

Then Younghyun's words finally permeated his tipsy brain, and Wonpil's eyes shot open. He sat up, put his wine glass carefully down on the table, and turned to trap Younghyun under his weight.

"Wait, hyung, be honest with me now." Wonpil looked as stern as he could. " _Work out nicely for what_?"

**§**

**Kim Wonpil:** Access to the archives last month was really helpful! We are on target for you to review the essays before they go live  
 **Cho Kyuhyun** : That's good. And what about the object descriptions?  
 **Cho Kyuhyun** : The essays will link out to the digital archive, right? But we still have a big backlog don't we?  
 **Kim Wonpil:** Oh  
 **Kim Wonpil:** Section Leader Kang suggests we can get students to work on them under supervision  
 **Kim Wonpil:** It'll be good for the museum's image too, and tie in with our status as a public education institution.  
 **Cho Kyuhyun:** Does he? And how would he know what we're talking about  
 **Cho Kyuhyun:** Is there something you would like to tell me, Kim Wonpil-sshi?  
 **Kim Wonpil:** Ah.  
 **Kim Wonpil:** He's reading over my shoulder.

**§**

"Remind me again why you decided to move house during the hottest part of the year?" Sungjin demanded, mopping sweat off his face. "You've had the whole month to move but you only decided to do it now?"

"It was my notice period!" Wonpil leaned hard against the lift doors trying to close on him. "And we've been moving stuff over slowly."

They had both taken a half day off to move the rest of Wonpil's things over to Younghyun's apartment, so as to avoid weekend traffic.

Sungjin had seen their requests in the system, rolled his eyes, adjusted his bet, and then taken the day off too.

"You have the logistical sense," said Sungjin, who was methodically arranging various boxes and suitcases in the lift so that they could fit in the final item — Wonpil's keyboard stand, "of ... a slug."

"You're so mean," Wonpil pouted, and then turned it up at Younghyun, who'd arrived with said stand slung over a shoulder and the unkillable cactus in his hands. "Hyung is always so mean to me."

"Uh," said Younghyun awkwardly. "Don't worry, I won't be?"

"There's more doubt in that sentence than I'd like," Sungjin observed.

"Younghyun-hyung is _very_ nice to me! All the time!

Younghyun dimpled. "I don't know, aren't I mean when you want me to be?"

"That's _different_."

"And that's more information than I ever needed." Sungjin squeezed out through a gap. "Give me your keys, Wonpil-ah, I'll check your flat and lock up after you. Don't do weird things in the lift."

The lift doors closed on his delightedly self-satisfied laughter.

Wonpil thudded his forehead against Younghyun's sternum a few times, then decided firmly and unilaterally to just _move on_. "I can't tell if I have too many things or if this lift is just too small."

"It's small, it'll be fine." Younghyun leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "Don't worry, there's space."

There was, just barely.

Dowoon had arrived half an hour after they'd got back to Younghyun's — to Younghyun's _and Wonpil's_ , and didn't that send some obscure thrill down his spine — and been put promptly to work.

The fuzzy awe Dowoon had expressed at the prime location and fanciness of the building lobby had been quickly extinguished by figuring out where to fit Wonpil's belongings next to Younghyun's. They had spent the past three weeks sorting through their things and taking boxes to charities, but the practical realities of — for example, figuring out how and where to put Wonpil's small collection of figurines — could not have been anticipated.

"I'm getting you another one for your birthday next year," Sungjin announced in between slices of pizza later that evening. "A figurine to commemorate ... something."

"Do you have to?" Younghyun asked, sounding pained.

"It's basically a tradition by now," Wonpil told him, amused. "At least half of those are from hyung."

Younghyun blinked. "So ... five...birthdays?"

"We've known each other since undergrad," said Sungjin.

He was carefully tugging a cheese-laden slice free, and so missed the look of jealousy that flashed across Younghyun's face as well the way that it was absorbed into a mask of perfectly polite blankness. Dowoon, who was semi-comatose on his back with his hands folded on his belly, did too.

Sungjin did not, however, miss Wonpil taking Younghyun's hand, amusement and smugness in his veins, or the way Younghyun immediately ducked his head to smile at their interlaced fingers.

"Oho." Sungjin raised his eyebrows with a little smirk.

"Yes," Wonpil told him waspishly. "What of it? You've already helped me move in the whole afternoon."

"Well, I definitely didn't think you were moving in together to save money." Sungjin made a thoughtful face. "Look forward to some forms in your inbox this Monday, I guess."

**§**

**Please Fill and Sign - Forms A31B, C73**

Park Sungjin  
To Kang Younghyun; Kim Wonpil  
Mon, 07/20/2020 08:42

Hi both,

In compliance with organisational policy, please fill, sign and return the attached declaration of personal relationship and conflict of interest forms by the end of the week.

Wonpil — reminder to update your residential address *everywhere*.

If you have any questions please let me know.

(Don't ask why it's **me** sending you these forms.)

PARK Sungjin  
Section Leader, Welfare & Development  
Human Resources

**E N D**


	2. DVD Extras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing scene and a 1 year later (-ish) scene, from Younghyun's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely, I said to myself as I kept on typing, omakes aren't meant to be this long.

**DVD EXTRA 1**

"Maybe I should buy some cacti," Younghyun mused absently. "It's a bit empty in here."

"Dude," said Jae. "A cactus cannot cover the hole in your heart."

"Hyung, when are you flying back? I think sleep deprivation is making you grumpy."

"When America gets its shit together," grumped Jae.

Switching windows over to their video call, Younghyun made sure to squint dubiously into the camera. "So ... never?"

"Please," said Jae, "don't jinx it. Also, don't distract me. When are you going to ask Kim Wonpil to come live with you forever?"

§

**DVD EXTRA 2**

AT THE VERY first in-person annual gala after — after _everything_ , Younghyun found himself cornered halfway across the ballroom from the buffet table by Fundraising Director Lee Hyori.

"You," she said, "are very good at networking."

Younghyun had frozen as she'd prowled up to him whilst he'd been trying to rendezvous with Wonpil by the hors d'ouevres. How someone so slight and pretty gave off the impression of being an apex predator, he had no idea. _Wonpilie_ was slight and pretty, but he only looked intimidating up to the point anyone made him laugh.

So, about five seconds. That was how long it had taken for Wonpil's cool resting face to crack the first time they'd met; Younghyun had made some terrible joke, long eclipsed in his memory by the bright shock of Wonpil's surprised giggle and how he'd turned his head to the side in a poor attempt to hide it, the tips of his ears cutely pink with embarrassment, while the curatorial team had been settling in on their side of the conference table. Younghyun had been immediately compelled to make that happen as much as possible.

"Ah, thank you, Director Lee," Younghyun managed to get out smoothly. "I just like talking to people. It's fun getting to hear their stories."

"It is," she agreed, surveying him with the sort of predatory smile that sent apprehension shivering down Younghyun's spine. It was the specific apprehension of a shitload of work coming down the pipe. "I've heard good things about you, you know."

He ducked his head politely. "I hope to live up to what you've heard, Director-nim."

"Ah, loosen up!" She slapped him on the arm merrily and retrieved two wine glasses from a passing tray. He took the one she peremptorily pushed into his hand. "It's a party, Younghyun-sshi."

"I thought it was a donor's gala," he said drily and promptly regretted it.

"Yes, and you've already managed to charm many a donor. Softened them up for me, like."

He had noticed Director Lee's fluttering dress out of the corner of his eye whenever he managed to detach himself from a donor (or two ... or ... clump). But it hadn't occurred to him that — that he'd been — well he _knew_ he'd been maintaining donor relations, but ...

The idea that Younghyun had unwittingly played part in some kind of tag-team with _Director Lee Hyori_ was mildly dizzying, to say the least.

She gave him an indulgently amused smile whilst Younghyun tried to disguise the epiphany in a sip of wine.

It didn't really work anyway, because he choked when she said, "In any case, I'm surprised to see you alone."

In between coughs, Younghyun managed to register his befuddlement.

"Oh, well, a good-looking and charming young man like you, you _know_ ," Director Lee said. She paused for half a beat, then immediately discarded the pretence. "Where _is_ your other half?"

Younghyun gaped at her.

"Or," she continued, uncaring, "is he just hiding somewhere like my husband?"

Director Lee Hyori was semi-famously married to a musician mostly admired by people Younghyun's parents' age; he turned up on her arm at capital-E Events and was said to be very nice and generally chill.

"Too chill," Director Lee was saying, "sometimes. Especially at home, with all his bloody cassette tapes gathering dust. Does yours hoard too?"

Intimidated into honesty, Younghyun said, "Uh. Wonpilie collects figurines but ... it isn't terrible?"

Wonpil found them, then. He was smiling sweetly in what Younghyun recognised to be his older-people-oriented game face, which was deceptively similar to his annoyed-and-hiding-it face. Younghyun hoped he hadn't overheard anything incriminating.

"What's terrible?" Wonpil asked, sliding his hand through the crook of Younghyun's non-wine-holding arm and dipping his head at Director Lee. "Hello, Director Lee. Are you having a good evening?"

Nervously, Younghyun said, "Nothing is. That was the point I was making."

"My evening is going very well, thank you." Director Lee beamed benevolently at them. "Especially as I have now received confirmation that collecting need not necessitate hoarding."

Wonpil blinked at her in confusion, his long lashes catching the golden light spilling from the chandeliers above.

"It's because Wonpilie—Wonpil —" Younghyun paused, confused about exactly what level of formality was required here. Neither Director Lee nor Wonpil saw fit to provide their input, so he forged on. "Um, it's because he's a curator, I expect. All that ... curating."

The look on Director Lee's face conveyed that she was experiencing a specific kind of delight that Younghyun had no desire to further contemplate.

"Yes," Wonpil put in by his side; a little smirk tucked into the corner of his mouth belied the way he was likely laughing at Younghyun inside. "All the selection and appraisal I do for work. Occupational hazard, apparently."

"Perhaps I should have my husband audit some courses, hmm?" Director Lee mused. It seemed entirely rhetorical; neither Younghyun nor Wonpil would have dared venturing an opinion on her marital affairs.

At this point, Director Jung swept onto stage in his trademark Yohji. Nobody knew if he actually bought Yohji or just got his clothes tailored that way. Nobody had managed to get close enough to sneak a peek at the label and settle the years-long office bet yet.

"Oh, Jihoonie," said Fundraising Head Lee, who was still talking to them for some incomprehensible reason. "I remember his post-modern art collective phase. He likes to say he's mellowed."

In an undertone, Wonpil whispered something about wine to himself.

"What?" Younghyun snagged a glass of spiced red off a passing tray. "Did you say you wanted wine?"

"Hyung —" Wonpil trembled with laughter. "Never mind. Yes, thank you."

Director Lee gave them a fond look. "Ah, young love. I remember back when. Which reminds me, I must go find my husband — he seems to be talking that young man's ear off. Probably about Eric Clapton — we have donors to gladhand."

She swept off in a flutter of abstractly printed silks and jingling bangles towards where her husband was indeed talking at Jae, who looked simultaneously terrified and intrigued.

On stage, Director Jung was talking about pulling together and working collaboratively under difficult circumstances and how proud he was of everyone for putting their best foot forward and pivoting successfully to digital.

"Oh, they pulled together all right," remarked Kim Min-ah sunbaenim loudly, passing by behind them arm-in-arm with her plus one for the evening. "Those two."

But she had floated off by the time Younghyun whipped around, outraged.

Wonpil pulled him back around and started off for the buffet table. "Horrible gossips, hyung. I told you. Let's get more food."

They were unfortunately waylaid by the hors d'ouevres by a donor who was locquaciously enthusiastic about _Goguryeo to Silla_ and the subsequent work that the Exhibitions Department as a whole had done to enrich the museum's online collections.

Younghyun hung back and started filling a plate, keeping half an eye on the gesticulating professor and Wonpil's conversation. Wonpil was lovely no matter what, but with the glow of enthusiasm in his eyes and the way his pace picked up as he shed his shyness and warmed to his subject ... he was exquisite.

He had just sampled some kind of fusion shrimp cup thing when it seemed the discussion was winding to a gentle close.

"Very interesting, great chat. I'm sure you're a great asset to your team, Wonpil-sshi." Professor Kwak nodded at Younghyun. "But I'll return you to your young man now."

Wonpil went pink. "Oh it's no —"

"—please don't stop on my account," Younghyun said, grinning.

"Hyung," Wonpil inched over to him and whispered, "I'm hungry."

"Very good," said Professor Kwak, in that vague way that older people had when they weren't interested and had other things on their mind. "Is that osmanthus jelly _tteok_ I see down the end there? Stupendous catering. Have a good evening, gentlemen."

They bowed back automatically and watched in mutual amusement as he floated celestially away to the dessert end of the buffet.

"The catering _is_ very good." Younghyun proffered the plate he'd been steadily demolishing. "They've done this fancy _tteokbokki_ thing, but it's too spicy for me."

Wonpil laughed under his breath and speared a pillowy _tteok_ with one of the skewers left over from a very run-of-the-mill caprese hors d'ouevre. "Your fatal weakness."

They now stocked a bottle of chili oil and more hot sauce than Younghyun had ever had in his kitchen before, just so Wonpil could add what _he_ deemed the appropriate amount of heat to his food.

"As fatal weaknesses go, it could be worse." Younghyun retrieved another plate to start filling at Wonpil's direction. "Easily solved with cold milk."

"I want more _tteokbokki_ , hyung." Wonpil nudged him. "It's so good. And more of the fishcake please. And I want those cheese skewers, with the tomatoes. And, oh, is that _nurungji_??"

Carefully lifting the caprese skewers onto the plate with the tongs provided, Younghyun nodded. "I was going to try that next. And there's meat further down the table too."

They made their way down the table with minimal interruptions, only to be ambushed by Jae next to the desserts. It was still a surprise, even after a full quarter of everybody being back in the office, to see him in person. Even after he'd escaped from LA and come back to Seoul, they'd hung out rarely after (remote) work.

"Just so you know," said Jae, "I have headed off at least three attempts to interrupt your weird buffet table date."

"D-date?" Wonpil spluttered and then dissolved into giggles.

Unsticking his gaze from Wonpil, Younghyun turned to raise his eyebrows at Jae. "Ah, but hyung, why didn't you head off your own?"

"Because I heard that catering's going to pack up leftovers and leave half of them in the second floor staff lounge after this," said Jae, exactly in the manner of one delivering a boon, "and since I'm _such_ a great hyung, I thought you'd want in on that. Especially considering you guys won't have time to get food or make food tomorrow."

"Hyung!" Wonpil cried softly — if they weren't at a work event he'd probably have tried to hug Jae, just to annoy him. "You do love us afterall."

Jae grimaced. "Let's not leap to conclusions."

"But you _will_ be helping us tomorrow?"

"We really need your help driving too, Jaehyungie-hyung."

"Yes, yes," said Jae. "Me and Bob" — his inexplicable nickname for Sungjin, who also just as inexplicably rolled with it — "will be your personal movers in return for more catering food. And pizza. Though I think Bob will want fried chicken."

"We'll have space to unfold the dining table all the way," said Younghyun, "so it can accommodate all of these things. By tomorrow night."

"I think we should appropriate more of these chocolate things," Wonpil said thoughtfully, popping the last of said chocolate things on his plate into his mouth. "They're like really fancy couque d'asse biscuits."

"Duly noted," Younghyun said drily, "for when I raid the staff lounge later tonight."

From behind them, where she had apparently been standing as silently as a ghost, Kim Min-ah sunbaenim said, "If you had a handbag, you wouldn't have to wait."

Wonpil yelped, Jae said _Oh_ my god! and Younghyun twitched very hard.

She laughed at them all and strolled off, her purse looking suspiciously stuffed.

"I was going to say something very pithy about you and Wonpilie and saying no," said Jae, "but I was also going to say that Bob could probably do that for you. Since he's on the planning committee, right, and won't get to go home til everything's packed up. Poor guy."

Younghyun raised an eyebrow. "Does Sungjin-hyung know you're volunteering him?"

"Oh, he suggested it." Jae shrugged. "There's a healthy amount of self-interest going on there too, anyway."

"Small blessings, I suppose," Wonpil said absently. Something — or someone — across the room had caught his eye. "Ugh, duty calls. Head Curator's waving me over. I think that's the donor who gave us funds for the TTI ..." Handing his plate to Younghyun, he turned to go. "Please come extract me in half an hour if I'm not free yet, hyung. I want to go home soon."

Even though it had been over a year since Wonpil moved in properly with him, Younghyun still felt that little bloom of surprised warmth curling through his chest whenever Wonpil referred to their flat as _home_. Not _your place_ or _the flat_ , but simply: home. And tomorrow they would be moving into a new home; a holt and hearth that they had chosen together.

"Bro, your _face_ ," Jae said.

Younghyun wasn't so unaware as to not know what the muscles in his face did when Wonpil melted his insides into taffy, or the kind of silly softness that presented itself in his expression as a result. But he couldn't help it, and it always made Wonpil go all shy in the cutest way possible.

"What about it?"

Sighing, Jae shook his head and picked up a clear plastic cup filled with sago pearls, pomelo bits, and chunks of mango soaked in coconut milk from a tray that was labelled DAIRY-FREE. "Never mind. You don't even care, do you?"

"Nope," Younghyun said in English, making sure to pop his ' _p_ ' and smile as smugly as possible. "Not at all."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is a TTI](http://www.ttind.com/cs4060overview.html). Point of nerdery: the museum that YP work at 100% also sprung for the vacuum work table. This basically would help flatten out any wrinkles, bends in material, scrolls that might tend to sproing back into scrolldom... yes. I may have at some point in my life spent some time in a digitisation lab, why do you ask?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you as always to bysine for cheer-reading & unconscious for your lovely comments also! 
> 
> Chapter 1 is the main body of the fic; chapter 2 will just be DVD extras.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this ... exorcism of a fic. Please hit the kudos button, let me know how you thought/felt in the comments, [and retweet](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1318361546016366593). Thank you!


End file.
